What went on in Nuremburg seems to be really topical these days. Doesn’t it?

— I started out this morning to write about a weird dream I had – & discovered the computer I fixed yesterday had gone into blue screen mode. I was able to convince it to shut down and then, remarkably, I was able to restart it – the problem seems to be that while it is protected by Avast and Malwarebytes it thinks it is totally unprotected. and wants to scream that at me every couple minutes.

— Then I discovered that my dream journal blog has developed a fatal problem that won’t let it load, and I can’t sign into it. And several blogs are complaining that they need to be updated. Including this one. & “Blogzilla 2.0” is full of nonsense from fatcow dot com which may be in collusion with one nasty, fraudulent extortionist or another and has shut down access to blogs mirrored on their servers because I refused to pay their ever increasing nonsensical ‘protection racket’ prices. — groan —

— sigh, & now the cat is complaining that I’m late with his breakfast.

— I’m pretty sure I was walking around the Milford, Connecticut, of my youth with my cousin, Glenn. He had grown taller than me. I was six feet three and he was probably six feet four and a half. It felt like we were back in our late teens. Too young to drive – too young for our parents to start nagging us to go out and get a job — old enough to feel the sting of knowing our parents were wrong – they’d been lied to and they’d believed the lies — but we weren’t old enough yet to understand that we knew that we were a little more right than they were – that we were ‘plugged in’ to a Truth that they couldn’t see or understand. The Beatles and the Stones had landed and taken their place in the collective consciousness (and unconsciousness – where applicable) so the social revolution was beginning and we were feeling something like empowerment – like something new and exciting and spiritually truthful was trying to transform the world into something we could believe in, not some nightmare manipulated by greedy older men with evil dark agendae – who believed in killing off the best and brightest of every generation so they and theirs could maintain power.

— We walked around, connected with friends and went to some kind of party reminiscent of the first time we played together in a band, we knew three songs and everybody thought we were fantastic, wanted to hear those three songs over and over again. I had a slightly warped and hard to play electric bass guitar and guys and girls caught up in the rock and roll revolution were shocked and impressed by the way I could play in time and with feeling they’d never felt from the lousy AM radios we all had in those days.

— Then we ended up ‘crashing’ sleeping in a room full of couch cushions arranged on a floor. In the dream I woke up worrying that somebody would look at me and know that, dressed or not, with the blanket not quite covering me, I was obviously sexually aroused – I’d been dreaming of the young women who’d been gasping and looking at us like we were potential rock and roll gods while we’d been playing and one of them wanted to sleep with me, but I woke up in a room littered with sleeping guys —

— I guess I lived through that without being discovered or having to explain that I’d been dreaming of starry eyed young women letting me know they’d let me kiss them.

— And as we walked outside somebody pointed across the river and said “That’s not right! There’s only supposed to be three peaks in those mountains. Look, there’s five!”

— In the reality I grew up in, there were no mountain peaks across the river from Milford, in what would have been Stratford. But, Yeah, there they were. I wanted to reach for my cell phone and take a photo of those five mountain peaks. But I quickly forgot that, the mountains began moving- sliding out of sight to the right- (heading north?) and being replaced by more and more mountains on the other side of the river. I gasped and said, “We’re going to have an earthquake-” and heard a commotion and people were running all around us. And I heard somebody else – who had probably come this conclusion independently – shout, “We’re gonna have an earthquake!”

— There was a rumble, not a really big one but a line of mountain cliffs came rolling in like they were on a railroad train and took up residence next door. I was trying to remember the name of those neighbours, realized I was in somebody’s house, and wondered how I would get back across the river to where my baby sister, Nancy, probably needed emotional support and most likely needed to know that I was okay and I wanted to know that she was okay-

— That’s where I woke up.

= = = = =

— It is now 11:27 am and it’s only taken me four and a half hours to write down the details of a dream that should only have taken me fifteen minutes to describe.

& Yesterday I found some old photos from 2007 and 2008 on a hard drive I thought had dropped dead on us.

Jassper, all gangly and cute, two days after we brought him home and Domino looked at us with, “I thought you liked me-” written all over his face.

The day I was sworn in as a dual citizen of Canada and the other place 😉 we got a call from the Gatineau, Quebec animal shelter saying Jassper was healthy (and our check cleared) and we could go pick him up. So On December 6th, 2007 – after Judge Cockburn (who looked like he was probably related to Bruce – the Canadian singer/songwriter of “The Trouble With Normal is it always gets worse” and “If I Had A Rocket Launcher -“) swore me and a large room full of others into Canadian Citizenship we drove across a bridge and around a corner and picked up the then gangly Labrador Hair Bomb of a ‘puppy horse’ – who now weighs 125 US pounds – and of course he peed all over the floor in sheer bliss. The shelter had named him ‘Jake’ [ after the black Lab who was a hero at the twin towers after the dark forces blew them up by remote control and tried to start a couple wars by blaming it on Islamic ‘terrorists’ who could not have flown their way anywhere near that kind of precision if their souls depended on it. ] [ When we know who the Real terrorists are – don’t we? ] – Anyway, he didn’t respond well to being called ‘Jake’ so I dreamed he told me his name was ‘Gaspar’ ( He was born in Montreal ) ( and knows we’re serious when we bark at him “Assis-Toi!” in French. ) I told Cathi about the dream and she and her son wrote down several variations of ‘Gaspar’ and sat there and called him by each one until he smiled, wagged his tail and became happily animated when they called him “Jassper” – and probably sent them the ESP message, “I get some food for this, right?”

This was from August of 2007. I was probably happy to be able to work on web site stuff without an Orange Cat supervising over my shoulder-

— One of my favourite Pisces cousins 😉 has been razzing me lately because every time I tried to change my ‘effbook’ profile picture I wasn’t smiling.

Well- Dang! In today’s political climate, If you’re smiling you look like your twisting a dagger in some good person’s back – cheating Veterans out of their promised health care for fun and profit – blowing up landmarks and killing thousands of innocent civilians to further your dark ops objective of enslaving your own people for fun and profit – or something evil like that there-

But Lori had a point and I went looking for a decent photo of me smiling and this one almost qualifies- I think.

And my best guess is that this was a web cam photo when I was testing a new web cam. I also have another web cam photo that might have been from our previous web cam, or this one in bad lighting, that should explain why I mentioned my relief at not having an Orange Cat supervising my web efforts in the photo’s caption.

“Hey you- human- you forgot to dot that i over there- don’t ya think a different font would work better on that paragraph there? Why don’t you add graphics of mice running around behind the words to convince everybody that they need more cats in their lives? Oh, don’t mind me – I’ll just claw your shoulder off if you ignore me 🙂 ” -sez Moe, the smiling trouble maker of an orange domestic terror – Probably caught with the same web cam as the smiling Jim in the Boston hat above.

I should probably quit while I’m ahead. This already took about an hour longer than I thought it would. – Yarking dogs and complaining cats and phones ringing off the hook and all that usual nonsense included. 😉

Cathi’s Greenhouse- We put it together yesterday and two or three photos I took disappeared into a black hole or schnarr…

I think we had a quick little electrical glitch yesterday. While I was trying to download photos from my SD card. quite a few photos became really messed up and ‘unreadable’. And I got the error message that I had removed a USB device improperly and might have issues with scrambled memory or something like that.

Moe, a couple photos of this guy were lost, but had already been saved in several places. Here he is staring golden triangles into the camera (Hint, the ‘apex’ of those triangles is pointed straight down)

So I spent several hours last night backing up what was left on the SD card onto several computers and several Hard drives connected to those computers.

Trees on the hill (without deer this time) in the rain.. buds of leaves hinting at their existence…

I had to restart a couple of those computers a couple times because internal or external hard drives had vanished (and/or the firewire chain had fatal problems).

Garden Cart I picked up at the Habitat For Humanity “ReStore” that our GPS tried to say was at an address that couldn’t possibly exist.

Today, we managed to pry ourselves out of bed and zoomed off to the Kent hardware & lumber store to pick up a few things including seeds for Cathi’s Garden, bits of lumber to fashion a more functional place to stash firewood for next winter. & Yummy pie at Frank’s Fifties Style Diner.

Cathi’s ‘Zen Corner’ (just the interior, not the view) on the porch which she believes is just perfect for sitting and enjoying four legged and winged friends while playing her guitar and drinking in the beauty around us.

And finally, we’re back home dealing with wild and crazy (but always interesting) pets, waiting for the next episode of Game of Thrones… Thinking about a run to Tim Hortons in a couple minutes…